<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Ass-fingering as a prelude to relations of the emotional kind: a case study. by neverwere</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28034121">Ass-fingering as a prelude to relations of the emotional kind: a case study.</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/neverwere/pseuds/neverwere'>neverwere</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Fingering, Crack, Humor, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Time Skip</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 23:42:17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,324</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28034121</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/neverwere/pseuds/neverwere</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"<em>Marry me</em>, he thinks, as he comes around Sakusa's fingers and all over himself.<br/>This. This is exactly why you don't let strangers or very attractive teammates finger you out of the blue.<br/>Everyone knows that the ass is the shortest way to the heart."</p><p>Or</p><p>When it comes to sex, Atsumu has rules. Guidelines! SOPs! He swears they work, they've always worked.<br/>Until they don't.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>333</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Haikyuu NSFW Week 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Ass-fingering as a prelude to relations of the emotional kind: a case study.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I had a blast writing this, hope it makes you smile.</p><p>fools week update: I made this very serious <a href="https://twitter.com/ginkobean/status/1377607708489158662?s=20">article cover</a>. for *waves hand* science.</p><p>---</p><p>cw that don’t happen in the scene but are mentioned once: alcohol, rimming</p><p>To allow Atsumu to realize his full comedic potential, in this fic Omi is not as touch and germ averse as I think he’d be, and a few other bits of characterization are a little indulgent. It's for the greater good.<br/>Side note, I love Miya Atsumu a stupid amount, he's a wonderful character and deserves to be handled with the utmost care. Sakusa agrees.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">The thing about having somebody’s fingers up your ass, Atsumu considers in a poorly-timed bout of clarity, is that it’s an irreversible act of bonding. And in this very specific regard, a single digit may be worth more than a thousand dicks.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">That’s the reason why, anytime he seeks the fleeting high of casual sex, he chooses to open himself up with his own hands, please and thank you. He can always pass it off as a slutty power move that spells <em>Watch me. Look at what your eyes do to me.</em> And, well, there may be some truth in that after all, every time hungry stares lick a new coat of easy gratification onto his skin.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">The number one reason why Atsumu is a self-fingering-kinda guy is that you never know where those hands have been before they slip under the waistband of your briefs. You have to <em>trust </em>the other person to be a half-decent human being and at least wash their hands, <em>and didn’t they teach you that when you were a kid?</em> Unfortunately, there are many fully decent-looking humans that, when probed further, are not even an ounce decent. Present company excluded.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">And the fingernails! May the wrath of the gods be unleashed on those assholes who stick their despicable claws in other people's assholes. They. Don't. Belong. There. It’s a blatant breach of the unspoken contract between fingerer and fingeree. </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">During a particularly sharp encounter Atsumu had considered launching a social media campaign to raise awareness on the issue of long fingernails for those who dabble in the backside arts. A pro-mani pro-(ass-)fingering campaign. He suspects the Jackals PR team would not greenlight that, and takes it as a sign that he's ahead of his time. </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Being a professional setter for a V.League team means his own hands are always in tip-top shape and hold a permanent butt-approved seal from the Experimental Housewife Association of Japan.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Next, and no less important, is the technique. At this point in life Atsumu could put together a solid PowerPoint presentation entitled Top 10 Things You Should (Not) Be Doing To Thy Neighbor's Butthole. First and foremost, treat that booty with kindness. It deserves to be Loved. And cherished. Treat that booty as if you'd want to introduce it to your mum — not right now of course, but <em>soon</em>. He shoots a quick mental apology to his mother, who has always taught him to treat everyone, regardless of firmness or roundness, with empathy.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Then there is the issue of speed. Too slow and it feels distinctly medical, and unless you are playing that particular game (and even then), Atsumu finds it undesirable. Too fast and it feels like a sledgehammer is hitting your butt, and once again, maybe you have a sledgehammer kink and that's very valid, but Atsumu does not, and so please slow the fuck down before he gets sea sick. There's a very special moment when the speed is <em>just right</em> that allows him to lose himself in the feeling. It’s rare and wondrous and something to be treasured, and he’s surprised to discover that he’s already halfway there.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Through the years, Atsumu has become a big supporter of doing all the prep in advance in the privacy of his own home, so he can later enact the best worst-kept secret play he has, and pretend for a night that anal sex might be a spontaneous and uncomplicated affair. There is always, <em>always</em> a spike of exquisite reward when somebody’s eyes turn dark and wide, and their breath catches as they reach behind Atsumu to find him already wet and loose. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Atsumu also has complex feelings about ass-slapping, and he likes to make them clear early on. `Cause Jesus may have said said "Turn the other cheek", but Atsumu thinks there is a time and a place for that, and that place is much later in the game. It's especially delicious when you're close to the finishing line and a well-placed smack pushes you just that teensy bit forward as you writhe and squeeze around That Dick™. But slap too soon and the magic is gone.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">There is also the very real awkwardness of lingering in an intimate moment with a person you barely know. What do you talk about with someone who has their fingers in your ass? Dirty talk at that point often feels like playing pretend, but at the same time you can’t just talk about the weather. Or, on one memorable occasion, that new pair of gel insoles he’d wanted to buy, the ones with arch support that were meant to “enhance the biomechanical working of his body”. </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Alcohol helps, makes Atsumu’s focus less sharp, his attention looser but… he finds the slips in self-control are hardly ever worth it. Makes it harder to leave afterwards, too. Staying in his own head for a while had often been an acceptable strategy to navigate the prep stage. However, when he caught himself going through the alphabetised roster of VC Kanagawa as soon as the first knuckle breached him, he knew he had to put a stop to all the fingering nonsense. And he did. Most of the time. With one notable, breathtaking, exception.</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Atsumu has lived by this credo for years. He knows it well, he knows it all. And so it's with a tragic sense of defeat that, once Sakusa Kiyoomi's fingers are three-knuckles deep inside him, he’s hit by the startling realisation that he was doomed from the very start.</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">He recognizes the series of mistakes that lead him here, spread on his back on Sakusa’s bed. </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">When they were bickering in the changing rooms at the end of the day (bickering about what he's not even sure) and Sakusa said “Fuck you”, he should <b>not</b> have shrugged and replied “Sure” (but he did). And when after a long stare Sakusa said, “Let's go then”, there, at that point, Atsumu should have said <em>Ah yer so funny Omi-kun</em> and fake laughed, or <em>I do not fuck my teammates (even if they look like my wet dreams)</em>, or better yet <em>I am saving myself for marriage</em>, and not, under any circumstances, the catastrophic "Okay but I wanna fuck ya too afterwards" that sealed his fate. </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">He thinks he heard Sakusa choke a little at that.</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">He should’ve known he didn’t stand a chance against the obsidian onslaught of wavy hair and stormy eyes, and those fucking moles that are now permanently imprinted on his retinas. </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Throughout the whole ordeal, Atsumu only had a single moment of hesitation. It happened when Sakusa parked in front of his apartment building, and Atsumu sat blinking, unseeing, at the car’s dashboard, trapped in the eerie sensation of sleepwalking. Horny sleepwalking. Because reality didn’t normally take the shape of Sakusa opening the car door and offering him a hand, asking “Are you getting cold feet, Miya?”. And Atsumu, true to himself, thought <em>Fuck it</em>, and took Sakusa’s hand, swallowing down his own fluttering heart. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Atsumu has been losing ground with every touch of Sakusa’s hands on his skin, with every piece of clothing dropped on the floor, painting a trail of black and gold blooms from the entrance to the bedroom door. </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">And then he was naked and panting on the bed, with a lapful of an equally naked Sakusa dropping open-mouthed kisses along his neck, a wave of heat moving against Atsumu’s front, looking and feeling like an X-rated version of heaven. Atsumu’s not sure what kind of wicked, vengeful spirit possessed him at that point and compelled him to brush his lips against Sakusa’s ear to breathe out, hot and throaty, “Open me up Omi, I wanna feel ya.” </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">And Sakusa — damned, blessed man — did.</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">During his years of sexual exploration, Atsumu has often been confronted with the quest for the holy grail of modern masculinity: The Prostate. He'd like to wear a bracelet, like one of those Do Not Resuscitate, but his one would say Do Not Poke Around Inside Me. It’s either you know what you’re doing, or you don’t. Atsumu is not generous enough to be anyone’s trial run. But this time around the odds are in his favour, ‘cause it’s clear that Sakusa’s no amateur. </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">The fingers currently at work inside him slide and press sweet and perfect, making Atsumu burst into delicious, delirious bubbles. “Omi— <em>ah</em>— yer just— gods <em>yes</em> where didja learn that… it’s yer bendy fucking— <em>ah ah</em>— wrists innit? <em>oh please, there, please…</em>”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“Miya-senshu,” the reporters sometimes ask him, “What is the best feeling in the world?”. And when it happens next, like all the other times before, he's going to answer "Scoring the service ace that wins the match" or "Setting for my ameeeizin’ spikers (wink)", and from now on it’s going to be a big fat lie because over the course of the last 17-and-a-half minutes it’s become apparent that the best feeling in the world is fucking himself open on two of Sakusa's fingers, locking eyes with him and gasping a broken <em>Omi</em> until Sakusa bends over to kiss him, and kiss him and </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Atsumu is so, so unprepared for Sakusa Kiyoomi, in very many ways, starting from the way Sakusa’s tongue licks over his lips and pushes inside his mouth. </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">He finds himself virtually defenseless against the feeling of Sakusa’s fingers brushing his hair away from his eyes and forehead. </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">And fuck fuck fuck, Atsumu is so incredibly weak to the reflexive moan that breaks free from Sakusa’s throat in response to his murmured <em>More, Omi, gimme more</em>. The sound is going to haunt him forever, he can tell; he soaks it in, and feels it detonate though his nerves, arousal as fierce as shrapnel. </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">He’s going to die here and his only regret will be never seeing what Sakusa’s face looks like when he comes from Atsumu’s tongue and lips. Atsumu could write an essay, hell, a whole book devoted to the soulbond that develops between people who've stuck their tongues in each other’s butts. It's a very tongue-in-cheeks type of relationship. He won't go there tonight, he thinks, although maybe, maybe he could, perhaps, he’s not sure, but a lick, just one, as a good-will offer— nevermind. Better to take it slow, yes, bring back the romance. Take him out on a date first, and at the end of dinner ask for a taste of what he expects to be the sweetest ass in the whole of Japan. Dessert has always been Atsumu’s favourite course. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">For now though, Atsumu pushes his palms against the headboard to rock his own body in time with Sakusa’s motions. He’s getting close, he can feel the dawn of his orgasm pulling at his core, growing hot and needy at the base of his cock. </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Sakusa watches him intently, sitting inside the bracket of Atsumu’s legs, and that gaze does unspeakable things to his self-control. Sakusa swears softly and sounds strangled when he says “I can feel you, you’re pulsing.” Atsumu can’t reply — he’s falling, incoherent and exhilarated. The watercolor blush reddening on Sakusa’s cheeks is the deepest shade of devastating he has ever seen.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Atsumu knows the fucker’s out to get him the moment Sakusa leans forward to stroke his side and place a gentle kiss just to the right of his navel. There’s something overwhelming in the gesture, a blade slicing through his safety nets, which makes Atsumu stutter and tumble. </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Sakusa slides his hand along Atsumu’s cock, the palm pressing on his length, the fingers curling around it, giving Atsumu a sensation to chase. Atsumu is helpless to resist, the last of his self-restraint evaporates, and he seeks Sakusa’s hand, moaning loud and desperate.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1"><em>Marry me</em>, he thinks, as he comes around Sakusa's fingers and all over himself. This. This is exactly why you don't let strangers or very attractive teammates finger you out of the blue. Everyone knows that the ass is the shortest way to the heart.</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">"Are you alright?" Sakusa, nay, Kiyoomi asks after a while.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Atsumu grunts something that sounds a lot like <em>gwa</em>. He tries again. "Ngh. ‘M good. It was... goooood."</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">"Just good huh?" the smug bastard (Kiyoomi) says with a chuckle.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">"Oh fuck ya."</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">"If you'd be so kind, Miya."</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">At that, Atsumu abruptly sits up, and maybe he should have thought things through because he feels rapidly cooling come sliding down his abs in a slimy trail. Ugh. Kiyoomi is looking at him with what he’d guess is a mix of concern and amusement. Well, here goes nothing. </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">"Alright let's make this clear ya jerk,” Atsumu says as he waves a vaguely accusatory finger at Kiyoomi, “Ya just gave me the best goddamn orgasm of the year, possibly of the decade, so t’least ya can do is drop the formal bullshit an’ call me Atsumu." </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Kiyoomi frowns ever so slightly. </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">The endorphins from his climax must have fried his brain cause Atsumu can't quite believe what's coming out of his own greedy mouth. But he’s fearless, or heedless, so he barrels on, "Second, an’ for the same reason, ya should date me, Omi-Omi.” </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">He’s serious. Really fucking serious. He doesn’t know what his face looks like right now, but he hopes the Miyas' signature eyebrows are doing their job.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Kiyoomi, regrettably, seems unperturbed (and does the bastard ever). Bastard. </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t know <em>Atsumu</em>. I see what’s in it for you, but what can <em>you</em> offer <em>me</em>?” </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">And oh. Atsumu recognizes the subtle upward slant of that infuriating, attractive mouth. He’s seen it flashing across the court when Kiyoomi gets one service ace ahead of him. And isn’t that something?</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Unhurried, Atsumu crawls towards Kiyoomi and starts to drag lazy fingertips against the soft skin of Kiyoomi’s inner thigh. He thinks he has something to offer alright. </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“Hav’ ya ever tried,” he replies low and sultry, “A setter's touch?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">And the rest, well, the rest is history. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I’d love to know which bits made you laugh!<br/>(and if you want to tell me my sense of humor sucks you can find me <a href="https://twitter.com/ginkobean/status/1377607708489158662?s=20">here</a>)</p><p>I’d like to thank sakuatsu for allowing me to put into writing all the butt jokes I could never say out loud. Some are truly terrible but I felt this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I have no regrets.</p><p>Many thanks to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feroxai">vi</a> and <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quill_and_muse">quill</a> for beta’ing &lt;3</p><p> </p><p>Moodboard (aka funny-sexy stuff that I like very much - all hq nsfw):</p><ul>
<li>
<a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26940637">How i met your brother</a> (sunaosa)</li>
<li>
<a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27567103">Two's Company, Three's No Crowd</a> (sakuatsu)</li>
<li>
<a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27843829">two pump chumps</a> (sakuatsu)</li>
</ul></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>